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“Your empty stomach just had a conversation with me in the car. So, yes, you can accept it,” he notes, his words circled in humour, his tone surprising me.
“Fawn,” he says, and as though he has a direct line to my chin, my head rises to meet his stern gaze. “When I talk to you, you look me in the eye.”
“Good girl.” In my dazed state, I barely hear him say, “Stand. Go back to your seat.”
"She doesn't eat. Hardly sleeps." He pauses, and my heart becomes an erratic drum between my ears. "If you were my property, I'd bend you over my knee."
"You are my responsibility. While you are under my roof, you will eat three meals a day. You will make yourself comfortable. If you don't like something, use your voice, say it. You will not apologise unless you have done something wrong. The word sorry carries no significance when it's used to hide a lack of confidence."
He smiles too. That. Is. Everything.
And for the first time, the mystery in his usually impassive gaze dissolves in a deep pool of sentiment, meeting my soul on an equal plane, no longer the enforcer. I see him a little raw. Hi, Clay.
"He doesn't eat. Hardly sleeps. If you were my property, I'd bend you over my knee." Oh. My. God. I'm dead.
Watch me beg for the truth about that night. The crazy girl with no memory of how she got knocked-up. Improbable. Watch me beg for an autopsy. The stupid girl who challenges the words of her two foster brothers, only to have the police sneer at her. Watch the silly girl being coddled by a stranger twice her age who makes her warm and uncomfortable and all the while having another person's kid growing in her uterus and no memory of how it happened. Watch a lost cause.
"Apakah Anda menyebut saya pembohong
We sent what you ordered you bastard
"Mine," I hiss. Mine. Mine. A word I didn't know I would use, but now that I have, it takes root inside me. My responsibility. Mine to protect. Mine to care for. To clothe. To look at. Mine.
"You will let me buy you anything I so please, little deer," I state smoothly. "Part of resilience is not secretly rotting behind your bullshit pride, my girl. Accept opportunities. Grab them by the balls despite how they arise."
"Good girl. You’re such a good girl for listening. Do you enjoy fucking yourself in front of me, my pretty deer?"
"You will be a good girl for me, little deer. Do as you're told, and everything will be okay. You will let me fuck any part of you. You will take me like a good girl. And you will thank me when I kill the boy who put this baby inside you while you were too high to consent."
To torture the boys. To kill the one who raped you."
"This is the last thing, Fawn. I swear it! The last thing. I will drag God himself to Hell before I let you hurt again."
“Humour is how you deflect, but it’s just as revealing as if you were to cry. I see you, sweet girl. Whatever you need to say or feel will not be judged. By anyone... if they wish to keep all their fingers.”
"She has been through hell. So, believe me when I say, fear her when she looks in the fire and smiles." -E.Corona.
"I love her."
"You're not my pretty little burden, Fawn." He lifts my chin. "You're my pretty little queen."
